Strong Connection
by venomandchampagne
Summary: A collection of my Stydia drabbles from my tumblr.
1. Carnival

**This is a 500 Word Drabble Request from goodinthewoods on tumblr: Stiles takes Lydia on a date to the carnival (not sure how specific you wanted to go, so please adjust accordingly) Give me Stydia feels!**

**First time writing these two; I hope I captured them well enough!**

**(Feel free to send me prompts in a PM or on tumblr- klarolinesbuttons)**

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><p>Stiles had no idea what had possessed him to ask Lydia out on a date in the first place, and even less of an idea as to why she had said 'yes.' This was <em>the<em> Lydia Martin, after all. She didn't date guys like him. Sleuth with, push out of the way of a fiery death, commiserate about the joys of going crazy with, and even kiss out of a panic attack, sure. But date? Never.

Nonetheless, Stiles found himself handing a twenty to the worker at the entrance to the carnival and saying "two please," Lydia waiting patiently at his side. Stiles handed her one of the ticket stubs and was granted a tentative smile by the strawberry blonde. He regarded her curiously for a moment before returning the gesture; was she actually nervous? Stiles mentally berated himself at the thought, barely suppressing a snort. Why on earth would someone like her be nervous?

"So…" he tried, shifting his feet nervously, hands in his jacket pockets. "Rides, games, or food?"

Lydia tilted her head for a moment, contemplating his question. "Mmm how about we get something to eat and walk around for a bit, see what there is?"

"Okay, yeah, sounds good!" Stiles said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. _God, why am I so nervous?! I see her every day for crying out loud!_ he thought as he ducked his head. _Not like this, not in a romantic sense_, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. Feeling his nerves ready to take over, Stiles quickly turned towards a food stand in the distance, moving his feet in the direction of his destination before they could end up in his mouth.

Lydia furrowed her brow as she watched his nervous movements and sighed when he abruptly turned and started walking away, a smile playing on her lips. His nervousness was kind of endearing and it amused her that he was so anxious about their date that he had walked off and forgotten about her, otherwise she most definitely would not have let her date get away with leaving her behind. Lydia started after him but paused to adjust her braid, pulling out her compact to double check her appearance before she speed walked to catch up to Stiles.

He gave a start when he noticed Lydia appear next to him and mentally kicked himself for running off without waiting for her. _Chill out before you ruin this, _Stiles chided himself, giving her a sheepish smile in apology. "Sorry," he said weakly as they reached the stand. "Uh, is cotton candy or popcorn okay? I mean, I'm sure we can find something else if you want, there's got to be more food around here somewhere…" he rambled, scratching the back of his head nervously.

Lydia just smiled at him. "Cotton candy is fine," she assured him, catching his eyes. "Pink, please, on a stick" she added, addressing the worker who was now looking at them.

Stiles handed Lydia the spun sugar stick after paying, blushing slightly when her fingers brushed his. His blush deepened when she reached out with her other hand and threaded her fingers with his, squeezing reassuringly as she continued to grin up at him.

"Should we see what else there is to do here then? Maybe visit the 'Strange and Mysterious Creatures' tent?" she said, winking.

Stiles laughed, giving her hand a return squeeze as he finally relaxed. "I'm pretty sure they've got nothing on our school," he smirked, his sense of humor returning along with his confidence.

"You're probably right," she agreed as they walked further into the carnival, hand in hand.


	2. Sleep

**Another 500 word drabble prompt, this one is from worldofchances2giveu on tumblr - Stiles and Lydia end up falling asleep in each other's arms and someone catches them.**

**So this ended up a wee bit longer than just 500 words (surprise surprise), but I don't think anyone is going to complain ;)**

**(Feel free to send me prompts in PM or on tumblr- klarolinesbuttons)**

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><p>Red and blue.<p>

That's all Stiles could see as he opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep that still clouded them. Where was he again? The last thing he remembered was pouring over more case files he had pilfered from his dad and doing what he seemed to do more than anything else these days: research. He yawned as he moved to stretch his cramped arms when he felt resistance. There was something on his arm.

Suddenly he froze as he remembered. Stiles hadn't been researching by himself, his now familiar spunky research partner had been there too. His _red_ haired partner. Stiles slowly opened his eyes and as they adjusted to the darkness of his bedroom, he could just make out Lydia's strawberry blonde hair on his blue sheets right in front of his face. He tentatively pulled his head back, fully taking in the situation he now found himself in.

Lydia's head was resting on his right arm as she laid curled up against him, asleep, one arm thrown over his chest and her legs tangled around his own. Stiles swallowed thickly as his mind went into overload. What the hell had happened? Well, obviously they had both been tired from recent events and pulling yet another all night 'figure out the latest big bad' session had been a poor idea, judging by the fact that they had passed out on top of the papers they had been study. On his bed. Together.

Stiles craned his neck to catch sight of the glowing numbers of his alarm clock. It was only 1:08am. He almost scoffed that he automatically thought one o'clock in the morning was 'early' now. Obviously they all needed to get more sleep, perhaps before they ended up passing out next time. Squinting, he reached over to his bedside lamp and switched it off, the room going dark as he pondered his next move, looking down at the girl in his arms.

As Stiles continued to wrack his brain for ideas on what to do next (he couldn't honestly just go back to sleep, could he? Should he try and get up without waking her or should he wake her up first and not risk getting caught trying to sneak away?), his bedroom door suddenly burst open. The sudden influx of light from the hallway caused Stiles to grimace and throw his free hand over his eyes.

"Stiles, there you are! I've been calling you for hours, we-"

Stiles squinted at the figure in his doorway for a few moments before he was able to determine who was standing there. It was Scott, standing with his mouth open and eyes wide, having stopped in the middle of his tirade in shock at the scene before him. _Crap_.

Scott's mouth quickly closed into a smirk, a look that clearly said 'I am never going to let you hear the end of this' covering his face. "And what's going on in here?" he asked slyly, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Stiles groaned, silently cursing his luck. "Uh, nothing, we, uh, we were just, um, looking over some things, ya know, trying to figure out the latest mess we've found ourselves in and, uh, we just… fell asleep," he tried, his face growing hot as he watched his best friend's smirk grow with every stuttered word. "Nothing happened," he insisted, though on second thought he wasn't sure why he was so adamant about Scott knowing that.

"Suuuuure," Scott laughed, shaking his head in amusement, unable to resist the opportunity to tease Stiles.

Scott's laughter caused Lydia to stir and Stiles froze, fearing what she would do and say when she found herself in his arms. As she slowly blinked her eyes open and raised her head he hoped his death would be quick and painless.

Lydia glanced up at Stiles first, then twisted her head to look to the source of the offending light now streaming into the room. After a moment, much to both the boys' surprise, she lowered her head back down onto Stiles' arm and snuggled closer to his chest. "Tired now. More sleep," she murmured, closing her eyes.

Scott and Stiles locked eyes across the room in pure shock, neither knowing what to do or say. Stiles recovered first and shot his friend a grin before he too settled back onto the bed, hesitating only a second before placing his free hand on top of Lydia's on his chest. "I guess we'll see you tomorrow Scott," he said cheekily before he too closed his eyes, the grin never leaving his face.

Scott stood there dumbstruck for an entire minute before he slowly backed out of the room and softly shut the door. "About time," he muttered, shaking his head as he left.


	3. Secret Dates

**This is a 9 sentence drabble prompt from tumblr - Lydia and Stiles, secretly going on a date at night.**

**(Feel free to send me prompts in PM or on tumblr- dragonqueenofall)**

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><p>"Stiles! Hey, what's up- Lydia? Is that you?"<p>

The two in question froze at the sound of Scott's voice, Stiles' arm reflexively tightening around Lydia where he held her before he turned to face his friend, his face as red as Lydia's was white.

"Uh, hey, Scott, we're just uh, we just ran into each other, and uh, decided to hang out," Stiles stumbled over his words, each one sounding less and less convincing, Lydia just standing next to him shaking her head as she stared at the floor.

Scott gave his best friend a quizzical look, "You just ran into each other at the movie theater," he said doubtfully. "And I guess you meant that literally seeing as how your arm is around her," Scott added, smirking in triumph when Stiles' confident smile fell; Lydia just rolled her eyes.

"Fine, you caught us!" she said exasperatedly, wondering what on Earth had possessed her when she thought they could keep anything a secret in Beacon Hills. "We're on a date, okay?" she admitted, holding her chin high, daring Scott to mock them further.

The werewolf merely grinned wide and clapped Stiles on the back, with quite a bit of force judging by the way the teen stumbled forward a bit. "That's awesome! About time, eh Stiles?" he goaded wiggling his eyebrows conspiratorially at his friend, leaving Lydia to narrow her eyes as she looked on suspiciously, Stiles nervously rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward, yet excited grin on his face.

"So… what are you doing here, Scott?" Stiles asked, eager to take the spotlight off himself.

Scott's face brightened as if he had just remembered something. "I'm here with Kira, she's getting the popcorn. I should probably get back to her too, so I'll see you guys later," he said before turning to head off towards the concession stand. "Have fun!" he called back over his shoulder, winking at Stiles, causing Lydia to roll her eyes again when he blushed in response.

"Boys." she said to herself as she shook her head, grabbing Stile's hand and pulling the grinning boy off in the direction of their theater.


	4. Confessions

**This is a prompt from hopetaringandu for a nine sentence drabble: I always secretly loved you stiles you didn't ****realize.**

**Bit AU, in the last episode Scott and Kira leave Lydia alone with Stiles after he faints to go check on their friends outside.**

****(Feel free to send me prompts in a PM or on tumblr.)****

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><p>Lydia sat on her knees, Stiles' pale head in her lap, lightly stroking his hair just to keep her hands busy; she needed to keep busy or else she would start thinking again.<p>

Thinking about what ifs: what if Stiles never woke up; what if he did and the nogitsune had changed him forever; what if she never got a chance to tell him…

Lydia shook her head, willing the thoughts to go away as she looked down at the sickly looking boy laying on the floor before her, knowing it was futile; she had never been one to be able to turn her mind off.

"Oh Stiles, please wake up," she whispered, feeling herself tearing up.

It was silent in the hallway, her human hearing unable to pick up any of the sounds that Kira and Scott had outside, so she was left all alone in the dark, quiet hallway with just her thoughts, and an unconscious Stiles.

"You can't just leave me alone here," she continued, deciding that filling the silence and giving voice to her tumultuous thoughts was as good an idea as any, "not after Allison-" she broke off in a strangled sob, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks now.

"You told me once that you would go crazy if I died, do you remember? Well, the same is true for me," she admitted, closing her eyes, "I can't bear the thought of you dying. Don't make me scream for you too, Stiles," Lydia sobbed, a tear falling onto his face, eliciting a twitch from the boy which she failed to notice.

"I can't lose you, not before…" she trailed off, pulling her lips in over her teeth in nervousness, something she tended to do around Stiles a lot, "not before I've told you… I've always secretly loved you, Stiles, you just didn't realize, _I_ didn't realize, and now it might be too late-"

"Hey."

Lydia's eyes flew open at the wheezed word, locking with the tired brown eyes of the boy in her lap. "Stiles! You're awake, you're okay!" she exclaimed, beaming down at him, relief clear on her face. "Wait, how long _have_ you been awake?" she questioned suspiciously, her eyes narrowing and her smile fading worriedly.

Stiles chuckled softly, which quickly turned into a coughing fit, with Lydia worriedly framing his face with her hands, trying to soothe him. "I love you too, Lydia," he whispered once the coughing had subsided, giving her a lopsided grin, enjoying the way she smiled down at him before leaning down to place a tender kiss on his lips.


	5. Colors

**This is a drabble Request from ****orangesuperwhowolfforlife on tumblr: Would you mind please writing a teen wolf, Doctor Who or supernatural AU fanfic where the characters live in a colourless world until they meet their soulmate? thank you! :P**

**At first I wasn't sure what to write for this, but then a really cute Stydia idea jumped out at me and it spiraled from there. I hope you have a sweet tooth, because this is pure sugary fluff.**

**(Feel free to send me prompts in a PM or on tumblr.)**

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><p>The first time Stiles saw color was third grade.<p>

A flash of red, technically strawberry blonde he would later learn, from the corner of his eye, burned through the usual shades of grey all around him. He whipped his head around, searching for the new color until he saw it again across the room. It belonged to a little girl, her seemingly glowing hair framing her small face as she stared intently at the bookcase. Strangely, it only appeared to be her hair that was different, her skin and clothes still awash in the perpetual grey of the rest of the world.

He was too young to know what that meant, but even eight year old Stiles knew that girl was special.

He continued to stare at her for the rest of the day, sneaking glances throughout their math lesson, watching as she finished her worksheet before everyone else and then stealthily read a chapter book in her lap as everyone else worked. During recess while Stiles climbed the monkey bars with Scott, he saw the shock of red again, reading what appeared to be a different book underneath a tree. He was tempted to go over to her, almost felt compelled too, but then Danny fell in a mud puddle and Stiles became distracted as he laughed at his unfortunate friend. She finished her spelling test before he even spelled the second word (wrongly), and he found it difficult to concentrate while she sat across the room, idly braiding a few strands of her hair as she sat, bored.

Eventually he found out her name, Lydia. Stiles thought it was the prettiest name he had ever heard. He continued to keep an eye on her throughout the school year, always finding a smile on his face when he caught sight of the now familiar red. That was his favorite color, he decided, even if his only other options were greys, and even if there turned out to be other colors somewhere out there.

The first time he spoke to her, merely handing her a book she had dropped as he passed her desk, making a joke as he did, grinning widely when she giggled at him and said a quiet "thank you," he was amazed to notice her eyes now shown a bright green.

Stiles had a new favorite color.

When summer vacation came he felt a sadness wash over him as he realized he wouldn't see Lydia again for a few months. While Scott and the rest of his friends ran out of the classroom to the buses, eager to start their vacation, Stiles trudged behind, head low as he imagined the plain grey world that now awaited him.

The next few years Stiles rarely saw Lydia. She wasn't in his class for the rest of elementary school and he only occasionally saw her in the halls and on the playground. And he learned to treasure every red and green moment, as it was the only time he was truly happy anymore, ever since his mother passed.

In middle school he had English and History with her every year and Stiles found those were becoming his favorite subjects. They hardly spoke, being from different social circles, but the red and green was still there, and that's all that mattered to him.

In high school everything changed. Scott was turned into a werewolf, Lydia became a banshee, Allison turned out to be a Hunter; the supernatural invaded every aspect of Stiles' life. And he wouldn't trade it for the world. Every sleepless night spent researching, every serial killer, every new broody werewolf, mystery, and epic confrontation was worthwhile because of her. She was now his friend, and his days were filled with green and red.

As he danced with her after his outburst at the school dance, mentally kicking himself for confessing his long standing love for her, he noticed her dress, or rather the color. And her skin, it was no longer a pale grey, but a creamy pink. Lydia was literally a beacon of color in a room of grey. And he finally allowed himself to believe he had found the one.

Of course, after the first day at school when he had seen the red of her hair, he had told his mother, confused and almost worried. Was there something wrong with him? With her? She had just looked at him lovingly and told him a story about a girl and a boy who fell in love and began to see colors because they were destined to be together. "That's how you know you've found your soul mate, the one," she had said. Stiles had looked at his mother in awe, unsure what that meant.

Claudia had watched her son carefully as she talked to him, trying to determine what was really going on. Stiles liked to joke and play around, but somehow this didn't seem like his usual pranks. She decided he must have read about color soul mates in a book or heard about it in a story and gotten confused. Surely he was too young to actually have found her? Heck, she hadn't even seen the sandy brown of her husband's hair until they had been dating for a year. Stiles noticing colors on a girl who he just met was absurd. Satisfied, she sent him off to play, thoughts running rampant through his mind.

It was many years before he learned about colors again in class and his mother's words came back to him. He spent the better part of an afternoon researching it and reading everything he could find on the subject. The only conclusion he could come up with was that Lydia was his soul mate. But she wouldn't even give him the time of day, how was that possible? Yet he could find nothing about seeing color in any other circumstance. Still, Stiles couldn't let himself believe it was true; good things like that didn't happen to him. So he decided to just wait, to see if it would maybe go away, even though he hoped with all his heart it wouldn't, or if he would see more colors, or, he dared not even think of the possibility, that she would see them when she looked at him one day.

As he stared at her in wonder, he noticed she was looking at him curiously, as if he was a difficult equation in her math textbook.

"What? Is there something on my face?" he asked, only half kidding, trying to recall what he had last snacked on.

"Oh, no," she stammered, caught off guard by his question, confusion looking cute on her, he thought. "I just…" she trailed off as she continued to eye him strangely. "Um, have you seen Jackson lately?" she asked quickly, looking away as she curled her lips in over her teeth nervously.

"Oh, uh, no, sorry," he said dejectedly. Why was Lydia still so hung up on that jerk anyway? She deserved so much better, even if it wasn't him.

That was the night Peter bit her, triggering her banshee-ness, or whatever you call it. It was also the night that Stiles knew for sure that Lydia was his soul mate. His heart would not be in pieces at his feet in the hospital waiting room if she wasn't.

Eventually Lydia recovered, becoming a member of the ever expanding supernatural club of Beacon Hills. Stiles grew closer with the strawberry blonde spitfire, hoping every day that she would see him in color. But he remained content with just being in her presence.

He had confided in Scott about his predicament after their sort-of kiss. Stiles had thought the moment had finally come, that she had realized what was between them. But Lydia had merely looked at him oddly (she did that a lot, lately) and explained away the kiss as a solution for his panic attack.

He was beyond frustrated at that point, which only grew when Scott laughed at him.

"Why don't you just tell her?" he asked Stiles, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And maybe it was. But Stiles had already thought about that, many, many times.

"I can't, Scott," he insisted, sighing heavily. "I don't want to force her into anything. After all the crap Jackson put her through, and whatever the hell is going on with _Aiden_," he spat the name disgustedly, causing Scott to grin wider and shake his head at his best friend. "I want her to _want_ to be with me, you know? We do have forever, after all."

Or so he thought.

Not long after his cathartic, yet ultimately unhelpful conversation with Scott, the nogitsune reared its ugly head. Or Stiles' head, he should say.

The dark spirit taunted him mercilessly in his mind, telling him Lydia wasn't really his soul mate; that she would never want to be with him. That there was just something wrong with him, that he was cursed. Look at everyone close to him, after all. They always ended up hurt or dead, didn't they? Why did he think the nogitsune chose his mind and not Scott or Allison's to latch onto? Because Stiles was already dark inside, the perfect habitat.

Stiles tried to ignore the words, to fight the creature with all his will. But he was only human, he wasn't strong enough to resist for long. So he watched from inside his own head as the nogitsune taunted his friends, leaving death and destruction in its wake. But worst of all was when it went after _her_.

He didn't know if it was better or worse that he was disconnected from the dark kitsune when it kidnapped Lydia. He wasn't sure he would have been able to handle seeing his colorful girl, his light in the dark, being tormented while he was helpless to stop it; while it was his body, his face doing the torturing. He liked to think he would have been able to overcome it, for her, to regain control and save her, but Stiles knew better. He wasn't the hero in this story, merely the wise-cracking sidekick; he didn't get to save the day.

But when Lydia stood at his side during the final confrontation with the dark spirit, holding his hand, pressing against him more than necessary as she helped support his weakened body, Stiles had hope again. Maybe she didn't blame him for the nogitsune's actions, maybe she wouldn't always associate his face with her tormenter, which was his greatest fear (he couldn't even contemplate losing her in another way).

And when she smiled down at him, relief clear on her face when he woke up on the floor after the battle ended, he knew they would be okay.

He wasn't sure if it was the leftover adrenaline from the epic fight, what little was left after he had passed out, or if it was from relief, but Stiles found himself reaching up and pulling her down to him, swallowing her shocked gasp with his lips, kissing her with all his pent up feelings.

Stiles vaguely heard Kira awkwardly clear her throat and Scott say that they were going to check on the others, too focused on the feel of Lydia's lips and the fact that she hadn't pulled away to really pay his friends much attention. When it truly dawned on him that she was still there in his arms, actively kissing him, he slowly pulled back, searching her face for what he hoped was there.

Lydia slowly opened her eyes, her lips red and plump from their kiss. She licked her lips as she met his gaze, smiling shyly at him as his eyes followed her tongue's movement.

"Hi," she said softly, cheeks reddening as she wondered why she had just said that. _You're a genius, Lydia, 'hi?', that's the best you could do?_

"Hi," he echoed back, grinning up at her, unconsciously tightening his arms around her waist.

"Um, that was… nice," she said dumbly, wondering why her mental powers had chosen now of all times to desert her.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, his grin widening.

Lydia's blush deepened. She wasn't sure what to say. She had never felt like this before.

Stiles cleared his throat as his face grew more serious. It was now or never. "So," he started, unsure of how to go about telling her his secret. "There's something you should probably know."

She merely raised an eyebrow at him in curiosity, making no attempt to stop him.

He steeled his determination and forced himself to continue. "When I look at you," he began again, looking down as he spoke, unable to meet her eyes. "When I look at you, I see… everything."

He looked up at her again, noting her furrowed brows as she continued to stare at him.

"Everything?" she questioned slowly, drawing the word out as if it confused her.

He took a deep breath before forging on, hoping she wouldn't bolt at his next words. "Colors. I see colors when I look at you," he said quickly, both relieved and nervous that he had finally admitted it to her out loud.

Lydia stared at him for a few moments not saying anything. He heart grew heavier with every second that passed, his thoughts wandering back to what the nogitsune had said. Maybe Stiles was wrong about them after all. Maybe that thing had told him the truth.

"Since when?" came the small voice, breaking through Stiles' troubled thoughts.

"Uh, since, um, third grade," he admitted, looking up at her sheepishly.

Her eyes widened comically; he probably would have made a joke about it in any other circumstance. "Wow," she merely said, looking at him in awe, or what he hoped was awe. No one had ever looked at him like that before.

"Yeah," he breathed out, honestly shocked she was taking it so well.

"You must have been very open to love back then for it to start so early," she pondered, almost to herself.

"Uh, I guess," he said, never having really considered the reasons behind it before.

"The dance."

Stiles furrowed his brow. "What?"

"I've seen color on you since the dance," she admitted, looking him dead in the eye, determination clear on her face.

"You- you have?" he stuttered, disbelief clouding his voice as he stared at her in shock.

"Just your eyes at first," she continued. "I wasn't even sure what I was seeing initially, but then I saw your hair, your _brown_ hair," Lydia told him, never breaking eye contact. It felt to him like that would be impossible at that moment, even if he had wanted to, which he certainly did not (he could stare into her eyes for hours). "Or what hair you had at least," she teased, grinning.

"Ha. Ha." he laughed dryly, mock glaring at her. Would no one let him forget that buzzcut? "But then, why didn't you say anything?" he asked, becoming serious again.

Lydia sighed, giving him a half smile. "I was afraid," she admitted. "I know you're nothing like him, thankfully," she added under her breath, causing Stiles to grin. "But after Jackson, I just… I wasn't ready for, well, for forever."

Stiles brought a hand up to brush her hair behind her ear so he could see her face better. "I get it, I do," he told her, pleased when she shivered under his touch. "That's why I didn't say anything either. Well, recently, anyway. I honestly had no clue what was going on way back in elementary school," he said smiling.

She laughed, the sound making his heart swell. "I expect not," she grinned. "I guess I was finally ready for my soul mate, you, I guess, by then," she said, blushing.

Stiles' reddened cheeks match hers. "When- when did you see me in full color?" he asked curiously. "Or, have you yet, I guess I should say?"

She did that thing with her lips again that he had come to associate with her nerves, drawing them back over her teeth. "Since… the kiss," she admitted finally, looking at him intently for his reaction. "I mean, the first one, not this last one," she clarified. "When I finally admitted to myself what was going on."

Stiles smiled warmly at her. He had thought she had looked especially stunned after she had kissed him, very out of character for _the_ Lydia Martin.

"You?"

Now it was his turn to look nervous. "Uh, the dance," he said, giving her a sheepish smile.

He was surprised when she laughed. "Usually I'm the overachiever," she mused, grinning widely at him, "but I guess you have me beat in this case," she teased.

He chuckled. "Can't be on top all the time," he said cheekily. Stiles' eyes widened as he realized what he had just said, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks when her parted lips told him she had understood the double meaning too. "I, uh, didn't mean-"

"Maybe not all the time," she interrupted him, looking at him intently as she raised an eyebrow challengingly. "But I am right now," she said smugly, indicating their current position.

"Yeah, I guess you are," he practically breathed out, the atmosphere of the room suddenly shifting. "Well, watch out the next time you pass out," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lydia's expression immediately sobered as the events of the night, of the past few weeks came flooding back to her. "I could tell," she finally said softly after a long pause, her eyes downcast. "When it took over, I could tell. The color disappeared."

Stiles looked at her, completely stunned. He wasn't sure what he should say. He was immeasurably glad that she was able to separate him from the nogitsune so easily. But before they knew what was going on; she must have been so confused.

"I didn't know what was happening at first, obviously," she continued, finally raising her eyes to look at him. "But I knew something was wrong. And when I figured out it wasn't you," she paused, swallowing thickly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I was so scared, Stiles. I couldn't lose you, not when I didn't even really have you to begin with," she admitted passionately, moving a hand up to cup his cheek, as if to reassure herself that he was really there. "I understood those words you said to me, finally. I would go out of my mind if I lost you too.

Stiles looked up at her in wonder, shocked by her confession. "Hey, Lyd," he said softly, catching her attention as he gently held her face between his hands, softly caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "You'll never lose me," he assured her, trying to convey his conviction to her through his eyes.

Lydia sniffed as she gave him a small smile. "Promise?"

"Promise."

And she kissed him again, each pouring all their emotions into the action, minutes passing before they came up for air. Stiles didn't open his eyes again until he heard her gasp, immediately worried some new evil had already arrived to fill the void.

But evil was the last thing he saw before him.

The whole world had changed. Even in the dimly lit hall he could see everything. The blue and greys and tans of the school were clear before him. The whole world was in color now, not just him, not just Lydia. Everything.

"It's beautiful," Lydia whispered, looking all around them in awe. Sure, at any other point in time or in any other circumstance neither would think the dingy coloring of the school was 'beautiful.' But seeing the world lit up in color for the first time, well, any place would be considered beautiful in that moment.

Stiles found his gaze once more focused on the strawberry blonde above him, the newly colored world forgotten. "_You're_ beautiful," he told her sincerely.

She looked down at him and smiled before she leaned in to properly thank him for the compliment.


	6. Sunscreen

**This is a drabble for a prompt from ****caresklaus on tumblr: vacation.**

**(Feel free to send me prompts in a PM or on tumblr.)**

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><p>"You know you're supposed to apply that <em>before<em> you go in the sun, right?"

Stiles looked up at the strawberry blonde from his place on the beach towel. "Well, it's kinda hard to put on sunscreen when you're driving a bunch of loud, rowdy teen supernaturals to the beach," he quipped, grinning up at her.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "You're making a mess," she said, shaking her head as she watched him attempt to slather blobs of sunscreen on his shoulders and back, more ending up on the towel than his skin. "Here, let me," she offered, holding out her hand expectantly.

Stiles' eyes widened, shifting quickly to look for his other friends. He wasn't sure if he was glad or uneasy that Scott, Kira, Danny, and Isaac where further down the beach, splashing in the waves. "Uh, okay…" he said hesitantly, quickly wiping off the messy tube before handing her the sunscreen.

Lydia merely raised an eyebrow. "Turn around, Stiles," she ordered, making a motion with her forefinger before kneeling down next to him.

Stiles found himself holding his breath as he shifted, flinching slightly when her hands came into contact with his back.

"Applying this in globs isn't going to give you better protection," she chastised, grimacing as she spread the excessive amount of sunscreen on his skin.

Lydia rubbed the surplus down his arms, wondering when they had gotten so muscular. Had Stiles started working out? How had she not noticed before? Come to think of it, his entire torso was looking more fit, not that she was looking, of course.

"Well, it's not my fault the bottle is defecti- Hey! Watch it!" he cried out, squirming away from her touch as she moved along his sides.

Lydia sat there with her mouth open for a moment before she could answer. "Are, are you ticklish?" she questioned, surprised. When she moved her fingers experimentally against his sides again she laughed as he jerked away.

"No! I'm just… sensitive," he tried, turning back around, crossing his arms over his chest, trying not to look like he was protecting himself from any further attacks.

"Uh huh," she muttered, smirking at him.

"Yeah, so, I'm just gonna go. Into the water. With the others," Stiles stuttered, scrambling to his feet, arms still crossed. "Thanks for the, um, slathering," he added, mentally kicking himself after. _Slathering? Really, Stiles?_

"Oh, Stiles," she called, causing him to stop and turn back around. "What about me?" she asked, pulling off her coverup, revealing her green floral print bikini.

"You… what?" he managed to stutter, eyes wide, looking every bit like a deer in the headlights.

"My back," she clarified, turning away from him. "If you don't mind returning the favor, of course."

"Oh, um, sure," he managed to say, a quip about applying it before going into the sun dying on his lips as she pulled her hair over one shoulder, baring her back to him.

Stiles slowly fell to his knees on the towel behind her, cautiously placing his hands on her shoulders, afraid this was all some kind of joke. When she didn't move at his touch, he began moving his hands down her back in circular motions.

"Mmm, I think you're forgetting something," she said, breaking his concentration.

"Huh?"

"The sunscreen, Stiles," she smirked, waving the bottle at him as she looked back over her shoulder.

Stiles felt his face grow hot, and not from the sun. "Oh, right," he said quickly, grabbing the bottle from her and squirting some into his hand. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, moving to apply the sunscreen to her back, trying not to think about the fact that he had his hands all over _the_ Lydia Martin. Just a year ago and he would never have thought this moment would ever happen.

"No worries," she said, a smile in her voice. "Though I might have to have you finish that massage later," she added.

"What?" he squeaked, caught off guard.

Lydia merely laughed, standing up, rubbing the excess sunscreen into her arms. "Come on Stiles, we can't break Scott and Kira's winning streak at chicken by sitting on the beach," she said, winking as she offered him her hand.

Stiles only hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, letting her pull him up. He grinned down at her, noticing how much shorter she was than him for the first time. "No, I guess not," he said, laughing as he ran with her to the shore, Lydia still gripping his hand.

He would worry about when exactly their relationship had shifted later. Today he was just going to enjoy this vacation, whatever it might bring his way, especially if it brought him closer to her.


	7. Wouldn't Be A Bad Thing

**This is a drabble for a prompt ****on tumblr: love.**

**(Feel free to send me prompts in a PM or on tumblr.)**

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><p>"Sooo," Scott drawled, grinning at his friend as he slung his arm over Stiles' shoulders. "You and Lydia have been spending a <em>lot<em> of time together lately."

Stiles blushed at the clear indication behind Scott's words. "Uh, I guess," he said, trying to sound nonchalant as he shut his locker. "There's always some supernatural drama going on that we have to save all you weres from."

Scott shook his head, grinning wider. "I meant outside of that stuff," he said, keeping his arm around his friend as they headed down the hall. "You know, in the library, at the bowling alley. In your room," he added winking.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was many things, but subtle was not one of them. "It's called studying, Scott. Maybe you'd be doing better in Bio if you and Kira spent more time doing that than… whatever it is you two do in _your_ room."

The werewolf just laughed, ignoring the jibe. "I really doubt you two are just 'studying,'" Scott teased, dropping his arm when they reached their next class. "Come on, Stiles. You're my best friend, you can tell me," he practically pleaded as they made their way to their seats.

"Believe me, Scott," Stiles said, slumping in his chair, "if something happens between us, I'll be telling everyone."

Scott laughed. That was probably true. Knowing Stiles' long history of longing for Lydia Martin, he highly doubted his friend would be able to keep any developments to himself for very long.

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><p>"Hey, Lydia," Kira greeted, smiling at her friend as she caught her on the way to class. "How're things?"<p>

"Good," Lydia answered, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at Kira's overly cheerful tone.

"That's nice," the kitsune answered, eyeing Lydia intently. "And how're things with Stiles?"

_There it is_, Lydia thought. She knew the girl had been leading to something. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," she tried, hoping Kira would drop it.

"Oh come on, Lydia, you're not exactly being subtle about it," Kira said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, all those study sessions, the not-actually-a-date double dates with Scott and I, not to mention all those times you just sit in class staring at him; don't even try and deny it," she added, cutting off the indignant reply forming on Lydia's lips. "Lydia, you asked him for help with a math problem the other day. _Math_," Kira said, stopping in the middle of the hall.

Lydia sighed, hanging her head in embarrassment as she stopped beside her friend. "I didn't think I was being that obvious," she mumbled, staring at her shoes.

Kira shook her head as she grinned. "People in love never do," she said matter-of-factly.

The strawberry blonde's head shot back up at that. "I am not-" she cried before she noticed people turning to look at them. Lydia yanked Kira down the hall by her arm, cheeks red. "I am not in _love_" she hissed, glaring at her traitorous friend.

Kira only laughed, amused by Lydia's reaction. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

Lydia sighed, pulling her friend to a halt outside the classroom, her face going even redder as she noticed Stiles already inside. "I- I don't know anymore," she admitted, staring at the boy in question. "It's all so confusing. I don't have the greatest track record with boys, you know. And Stiles is just… so different," she sighed, quickly looking away when he looked up to meet her eyes.

Kira nodded in understanding. "I get it, I do. But don't wait too long to find out," she added, patting Lydia on the shoulder before moving inside the classroom, giving Scott a kiss on the cheek before taking her seat behind him.

Lydia chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought as she took her seat, giving Stiles a hesitant smile as she sat behind him. Could she actually be in love with him?

As the bell rang and their teacher began class, Stiles turned slightly, quickly slipping something onto her desk, giving her a grin before he turned back around. Lydia looked down, smiling as she took in the familiar orange packaging before carefully unwrapping it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if she was, she decided, taking a bite of her treat before she poked him gently in the back, handing him back the second peanut butter cup. She felt a warmth spread through her when Stiles' fingers brushed hers as he took it from her hand, giving her a grin before he turned to face forward again.

Yeah, it wouldn't be a bad thing at all.


	8. Smile

**This is a drabble for a prompt ****on tumblr: smile.**

**(Feel free to send me prompts in a PM or on tumblr.)**

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><p>Lydia laughed.<p>

She laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. She laughed so hard she forgot what she was laughing about. She laughed so hard that for a split second she forgot about Allison and Aiden and all the pain they had been through. And for a moment she was happy.

Stiles smiled. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard her laugh. It sounded almost musical to him. He promised himself he would do whatever he could to make her laugh more often.

Lydia slowly calmed down, wiping her eyes, grinning at him. "Thanks, I needed that."

Stiles returned her grin. "You should smile more often, Lydia. You have a beautiful smile."

Lydia's mouth fell open, Allison's words, her own words echoing in her head. Words about how someone could be falling in love with your smile.

Her lips slowly turned up again, her smile now shy as she looked at Stiles in a new light, her eyes focusing on his own grin.

She could almost hear Allison laughing at her, her best friend's joke about Stiles, the boy she had overlooked for so long finally coming true. Maybe Allison had just seen what Lydia couldn't back then.

She sent her friend a silent 'thank you' before leaned forward, surprising Stiles with a quick kiss. "So do you," she said softly, smiling at his wide grin.


	9. Mother

**This is a prompt from the-red-string-of-fate-24 on tumblr: Mother**

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><p>Stiles quietly slipped away from the crowd of people, heading north along the now all too familiar path. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, head low as he moved on autopilot.<p>

The late afternoon light sifted through the leaves of the trees that lined the dirt path, casting morose shadows across his face, matching his mood.

He turned left when he reached the correct row, taking a deep breath before he began counting, a habit he had picked up when he was younger. One, two, three, four, five. Five gravestones in.

Stiles slowly turned to face the familiar granite marker.

_Claudia Stilinski_

"Hi mom," he whispered, feeling his eyes well up with tears he thought he had exhausted already.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at her grave, thinking about all the far too many times he had been to this graveyard, especially this past year. Erica, Boyd, Tara, Heather, Aiden.

And now Allison.

Hot tears fell from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks. Stiles did nothing to stop them, staring unmoving at his mother's grave, tears falling to the ground.

How many more people he cared about would die? Would he be here again in a few weeks' time for another funeral? Perhaps one for Scott. Or Lydia. Or even his father.

A sob broke through his lips at the thought, his head falling forward as he tightly squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to stop the thoughts as well as the tears. No, he couldn't think like that; couldn't think about losing more of his family.

Because that's what they all were, his family. Scott, Lydia, even Isaac; they were family now. He didn't know how many more times he could come to this graveyard before it broke him completely.

He hoped to never find out.

"Stiles?" a soft voice called tentatively.

His back stiffened, quickly bringing his hands to his face, harshly wiping away his tears.

"Hey," she said gently, a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. "You don't have to do that."

Stiles slowly dropped his arms, too tired to argue as he turned to face her. Her eyes were almost as red as her hair, puffy from her own tears.

Lydia gave him a small smile, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek with her thumb. "It's okay to cry, Stiles," she said quietly, dropping her hand back to her sides.

He remained silent, not knowing what to say. Stiles looked back down at the grave, suddenly feeling awkward, no longer alone in his grief.

"Your dad told me where I could find you," she said, following his gaze. "I hope you don't mind. He was worried about you, but I could tell he didn't think he'd be able to handle coming here himself."

"I understand," he said, his voice hoarse. He did understand. His mother's death still affected the Sheriff so much, Stiles wasn't surprised that he was hesitant to visit her grave right after Allison's funeral, someone he had started to think of like a daughter.

They stood there in silence for a few minutes. Stiles was surprised to find the awkward feeling disappearing more the longer they stood together. It felt almost right, having Lydia there with him.

"Does it ever get any easier?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

He opened his mouth to answer, but the words caught in his throat. What should he say? Did it get easier? Sometimes when he was in school, surrounded by his friends it seemed better. Like the weight was lifted. But standing here, looking at her grave he wasn't so sure.

"I know I should be used to it by now, being what I am," she continued, looking back at him. "But I don't think I ever will feel at ease with this. And I'm not sure I want to," she admitted.

Stiles met her gaze, not knowing what to say. He hadn't really considered how this would affect Lydia. She was basically a harbinger of death now. He wasn't sure he would be able to handle that, knowing someone was going to die and not being able to do anything to change it. It was worse than not knowing.

He tried to give her a reassuring smile, the expression feeling foreign to him. "You're a good person, Lydia," he told her, believing it with every ounce of his being.

She smiled back at him, though it didn't reach her eyes. He was sure he looked the same.

"Do you want to go back to the others?" Lydia asked gently, as if she was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Stiles looked back in the direction of the group, everyone still milling about Allison's grave, comforting each other. It looked suffocating.

"I- not yet," he admitted, looking down at the ground.

"Do you- do you want me to go?" she asked hesitantly, biting her lower lip.

"No," he said quickly, surprising himself. He honestly didn't want her to go.

"Okay," she said, giving him a small smile. "How about a walk then? Unless you're not finished here?"

Stiles looked at her grave again, wondering if he would ever be finished here. "A walk sounds good," he finally said, wishing his mother a silent 'goodbye' before he turned to face the girl in front of him.

He watched with surprise as she stepped forward, placing a white rose on top of his mother's grave. Lydia turned back to him, gently placing her hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. Stiles smiled down at her, the first genuine smile he had given in a long time, and they began to walk down the path, a comfortable silence settling around them.

Neither needed to say anything to convey how they felt at that moment; each already knew.


	10. Please- Part I

**I was oddly in the mood for angst, and this is certainly the angstiest thing I've ever written. Enjoy the tears!**

**arrowthroughmyolicityheart was kind enough to give me an angst prompt: Lydia needs Stiles' help, but he makes it clear that he intends to fix things with Malia.**

**I decided to take it a bit further, so be prepared for some not so happy times.**

***Warning: character death***

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><p><em>Please<em>.

It wasn't a word Lydia had been very familiar with until recently. She had always been good about getting things she wanted with just a look or a few well-placed words. She would only resort to saying "please" if nothing else had worked, big puppy eyes and full pouty lips at the ready.

But lately things had changed. Or more precisely, Stiles had changed.

Ever since he had taken up with Malia, much to Lydia's surprise (and frankly utter confusion) he had little to no time for the banshee. Everything was about the werecoyote now, even Scott seemed to be taking a backseat, not that the Alpha really noticed, being so caught up in his own romantic interests.

But Lydia certainly did.

It had started out small. He dismissed her ideas when he used to always consider them carefully, even the half-formed Banshee-related ones she herself didn't even understand; now he was too impatient to try and figure them out (with her). He had little to no patience when talking to her, cutting her off and unleashing the aggressive brand of snark he usually reserved for particularly annoying people on her. She had actually grown so used to his snipes that she barely flinched anymore (barely).

He had also stopped helping her figure things out, leaving her with only Kira or alone as she struggled to understand her new powers. Lydia fumbled along by herself, trying not to think back on the past year when Stiles had always (_always_) been there for her, even when she didn't want him to be.

But now, when she desperately wished he was there, he wasn't.

She had tried every trick she knew short of seducing him (it felt wrong, for some reason, to reduce him to that), but nothing worked. He ignored her carefully constructed words, seeing right through them. He looked away from her wide, pleading eyes. He scoffed at her weak attempts to blackmail him (she had grown desperate by then). And when she finally broke down, pleading with him, _begging_ him to stay with her, not to leave her alone, he snapped.

"Please, Stiles," she finally tried, voice barely a whisper as she stared at the ground, refusing to look at his retreating back.

Stiles paused in the doorway, shoulders stiff, as if it was difficult for him to leave her. But he had gotten a lot of practice in doing just that the last few weeks, hadn't he? It should be almost second nature by now.

"I- I can't do this alone, whatever 'this' is," she continued, hating how her eyes watered and her voice betrayed that fact. "I don't know how to save him, please, help me."

When he turned around, finally facing her, Lydia took in a sharp breath. His cold eyes and condescending smirk brought flashes of the nogitsune to her mind, dread filling her momentarily before she could push it down. That dark spirit was gone, this was just Stiles, she assured herself (though that fact was perhaps even less comforting than the alternative).

"Lydia… Grow up," he snapped, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

The strawberry blonde was taken aback, still not used to such a tone being directed at her from him.

"Derek is a big wolf, he can take care of himself," Stiles continued, ignoring her hurt expression. "He's got Braeden and Scott, hell even Peter is trying to help him. I'm sure he'll be fine, whether or not you try and use your finicky powers. It's not like you can actually prevent his death, anyway, just sense it," he added callously, missing her wince at the reminder.

"I thought you might be able to help," Lydia said softly, forcing herself not to cry as thoughts of Allison filled her head.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "The world doesn't revolve around Lydia Martin," he said sharply, pulling out his phone, eyes wandering to the device as he flicked through the screens. "I have my actual girlfriend to take care of."

She tried to ignore the harsh sting of his words, trying not to think about why they hurt so badly. "I thought you and Malia were… broken up."

He frowned at his phone before he raised his eyes to her, shooting her a glare. "We'll be fine as soon as we can get passed this Peter business. I'll fix it," he said intently, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than her. "Malia and I are together now, Lydia, you just have to accept it."

Lydia looked at him in confusion. "I- I know that, I wasn't-"

"So you have to stop with this helpless act," he interrupted. "I'm done fawning over you, I've moved on."

Her hurt was momentarily replaced by anger, her eyes narrowing at the boy in front of her. "It's not an act," she said coldly, outraged that he could reduce everything to petty jealousy. "I'm happy for you Stiles, really," she continued, only half believing the words herself. "But I do actually need someone to help me," she pleaded, her voice becoming desperate once more. _Please don't leave me alone._

Stiles merely turned away from her, continuing on his previous path out the door. "Well, you'll have to find someone else," he told her brusquely before he disappeared around the corner, phone already at his ear.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, mouth open in shock as she stared at the empty space. As soon as she felt the tear run down her cheek she was jolted back to reality, scrubbing a hand across her face, removing the sign of weakness. She was Lydia Martin; she was not weak.

But as her texts went unanswered, everyone too wrapped up in their own lives to reply, she felt like that was less and less true. She was a banshee who couldn't control her powers, she was useless. She couldn't help her friends, she had no idea how to save Derek or even when he was supposed to die. She couldn't wield a katana or grow claws and fangs or even see the hidden connections. She was the weakest of them all.

And she was alone.

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><p>Lydia had never screamed so loud before.<p>

She knew she should be afraid, try to escape what the scream told her, but instead she was filled with an odd sense of calm as the bullet she knew was coming sliced hotly through her gut. It was surprisingly painless, just an uncomfortable warmth that spread from her abdomen, much like the blood that now spread across the ground.

_I wonder if this is what Allison felt._

She barely registered the screams around her, which was a first. Ever since she had become a banshee she had become especially attuned to the anguished cries that often accompanied death. Perhaps it was a blessing that she did not feel the ones that came with her own.

Her head rolled to the side on the cold pavement, her vision was blurring but she could make out some of the chaotic scene before her. Derek was laying stunned next to her, Braeden gripping his hand tightly as she knelt beside him, the former alpha bleeding from the many wounds he had received that night. He was looking at her with a stunned expression, not knowing how to react to the knowledge that the bullet that had been meant to finally kill him had hit her instead.

She could see the look of anguish on Kira's face, the kitsune's tearful eyes darting over to her every few seconds even as she continued to fight off the Benefactor's men. Lydia vaguely heard an alpha's roar, the sound mournful, knowing instinctively that it was Scott, locked in battle with the mastermind behind the deadpool.

She knew Liam was with him, the poor boy who had been sucked into their world full of danger and death, forced to fight for his life. She hoped he would find his place within the pack with more ease than she had.

She thought she heard her name, a scream louder than her own had been, and the sound of a bat falling to the ground, soon feeling herself cradled in another's arms, her face being pulled towards them.

Stiles.

Lydia thought she saw Malia standing behind him for a moment, her piercing blue eyes looking strangely sad (though Lydia did not know why) before she disappeared, rejoining the battle that still swirled around them.

"Lydia, no," the boy holding her sobbed, tears filling the eyes that had looked at her so coldly the other day. "You'll be okay," he said brokenly, one hand cradling her head while the other brushed some strands of hair from her face before jerkily moving down to press against the wound in her stomach.

"St-iles," she gasped, a faint smile crossing her face before she coughed, a coppery taste seeping into her mouth.

Stiles looked at her in alarm, his hand pressing more frantically against her, though she hardly felt it. "Shh, hey, it's okay," he tried, a tear falling unbidden from his eye. "Why did you do that Lydia?" he demanded, though his tone lacked the harshness she had become familiar with. "Why did you throw yourself in front of Derek?"

Lydia licked her lips, tasting the blood that now stained them on her tongue. "I figured it out," she rasped, the sounds of the battle starting to fade from her hearing. It was nice, the silence; she had missed it.

"His life isn't worth more than yours," he cried, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks, landing in her hair. "_Please_, Lydia, don't go," he begged, leaning his forehead down against hers.

The word caused her to smile. She supposed it was ironic that neither of them could fulfill the request they had been asked by the other.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her skin, pulling back slightly to look her in the eye. "I should never have- I didn't mean for-"

She felt her own eyes begin to water. "It's okay," she breathed, her hand shakily raising to touch his face.

Stiles' hand left her stomach, flying to hold her hand against him, as if that would keep her there. She could feel the slippery warmth of her blood on his hands but paid it no mind. "I never stopped loving you," he said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.

She gave him a soft smile, wishing things had been different, that she had been able to stare into his brown eyes like this before then. "And I started-" she began to say before she was interrupted by a fit of coughing. When Lydia regained control she noted Stiles' face was spattered with blood drops now, though he didn't seem to notice. "I'll miss you," she whispered, her eyes beginning to flutter closed.

"No! Please, Lydia!" she heard him cry, begging her to stay, not to die.

But Death always gets what it wants in the end. It cannot be stopped, only dissuaded for a while. And sometimes the price for cheating it out of one life is another in its place.

Lydia tried to smile, even as the world began to fade away.

"At least now… I'm not alone."


	11. Please- Part II

**I had a request on my tumblr as well as from **gossgal33 for a second part to the Lydia dying drabble. ******I had been fiddling with the idea of continuing this sometime, but the episode tonight made me so frustrated with everyone I just had to take out my annoyance on Lydia's 'friends' somehow, especially since she won't even be with them in the freaking finale, so this was the perfect chance.**

**Contains Marrish references and a nod to another of my OTPs; points if you get it ;)**

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><p>"It's all my fault," Stiles whispered to himself, not for the first time since that night.<p>

He knew Scott had heard him, could practically feel his best friend's eyes boring into him from down the line, but he refused to acknowledge him. Couldn't. Because that would mean letting Scott comfort him and reassure him that it wasn't, and he couldn't do that; didn't deserve that.

Lydia's death was on his head, and that had never been clearer to him than as he stood staring at her grave, sleek black coffin poised over the pit that waited to swallow her body. Stiles couldn't tear his eyes from the object that held Lydia Martin, the girl who was once so full of life even as she was surrounded by death. The girl who he had once held up on a pedestal, then called a friend, then not rightly even that.

He had failed her, the one person he thought he never would, and he couldn't let himself be forgiven.

Stiles could not focus on anything else. Mrs. Martin's heartbreaking sobs were background noise, the funeral director's solemn words barely registered, his dad's comforting hand on his shoulder nothing but a heavy weight, Malia's hand wrapped around his felt cold on his limp hand. All he could focus on was her coffin and his guilt.

Eventually the service ended. He watched faceless bodies pass by him, paying their last respects. He couldn't focus on them, barely recognizing the form of his best friend as he stopped in front of him, waiting for a response. Stiles gave none, however, continuing to stare straight ahead, chest heavy and eyes red.

The crowd thinned, Lydia's mother being escorted away, her father continuing to stare in disbelief at his little girl's resting place before he followed. Eventually the only ones left were the pack. Malia gave his hand a squeeze before she disappeared, but Stiles couldn't bring himself to care at that moment. He heard his dad gently tell him he would be at the car before he too left.

Stiles knew Scott was waiting for him, standing off to the side with Kira, but still he remained, frozen in place. He watched Derek and Braeden approach, the werewolf placing his hand gently on the coffin for a moment as he said a few words, probably thanking Lydia for saving him, before he left, eyes uncharacteristically watery as he clung to Braeden like a life raft.

Deputy Parrish approached next, the last person left besides Stiles. The man looked haggard, like he hadn't slept for days, skin unnaturally pale. He reminded Stiles of himself when he had stared in the mirror that morning and wondered why he was allowed to live, to attend her funeral, when someone as wonderful as Lydia was dead.

He supposed Lydia and the Deputy had spent a fair amount of time together over the past few weeks, working on uncovering the Benefactor's identity. He felt a pang of jealousy as Parrish touched the coffin reverently, running his hand along the smooth polish almost in a caress. Exactly how close had they been? But Stiles quickly shook those thoughts from his head. He had moved on himself, had thrown that fact in her face, repeatedly; he had no right to be jealous if she had done the same. And looking at the broken man in front of him now only furthered his guilt.

Stiles found himself once again jealous of Scott's super hearing, wishing he could make out the words Parrish was mouthing. He almost turned away when a few tears fell from the other man's eyes, feeling like he was intruding, but he forced himself to stay and watch, to see how his selfish actions had affected others, even if nothing could compare to how they had affected her. Deputy Parrish eventually finished his goodbyes, placing a single daffodil on the coffin before he turned, leaving his tears where they fell on his cheeks as he walked away, and leaving Stiles envious of his fortitude, and apparent happy relationship with Lydia when she had died.

He was now alone save Scott and Kira off to the side, yet still Stiles couldn't bring himself to approach her. Even though she had died in his arms, something he relived whenever his mind wandered, this somehow felt final, as if burying her was truly admitting she was gone for good.

"Stiles?"

He looked up, finding Scott next to him, noting Kira heading off towards the line of cars in the distance.

"Stiles… I know this is hard for you-" Scott began, voice full of pain even as he tried to console his friend.

"It _is_ hard for me, Scott," he interrupted, not wanting to listen to his friend's attempted comforts again. "And you know _why_? Because it's my fault. It's my fault Lyd- it's my fault she's dead! It _should_ be hard for me!"

Scott winced at his harsh words, wishing for nothing more than the ability to reassure his friend. "But it's not, Stiles! You didn't fire that gun. You didn't push her in front of that bullet. It's not your fault!"

"But it is! Don't you see?" Stiles pleaded, his voice full of all the pent up emotions of the past few days where he had practically been a zombie, hardly speaking, not letting himself feel. "I drove her to it! I left her, all alone, so many times, when I should've just… _been_ there for her. She even pleaded with me to stay! Instead I pushed her away. I told her to 'grow up,' Scott! I told her to find someone else! How is this _not_ my fault?"

Scott looked at him mournfully, not knowing how to make everything better. "We all should have been there, Stiles, not just you. We were all too wrapped up in our own lives to help her," he admitted, feeling guilty. He had tried to push the feeling aside before, but confronted by Stiles' words he had to admit that he had dropped the ball as well. He had ignored one of his pack and it had cost her life. It was a lesson he wished he hadn't needed to learn.

"But you weren't- you didn't… You didn't love her," Stiles finished softly, eyes falling to the ground as the tears he had been holding ever since his dad had pried his hands from her body escaped, flowing freely down his face.

"I'm sorry," Scott whispered, his own eyes filling with tears as he pulled his best friend into a tight hug. If he inadvertently used any supernatural strength as he held the human against him, Stiles didn't complain, sobbing into his shoulder as he gripped him back.

Scott's thoughts were immediately wrenched to Allison's funeral where a similar scene had taken place. On that day their roles had been reversed, Scott had been the one blaming himself with Stiles attempting to comfort him. What had their lives become that losing their first loves to death was something they both had in common?

"I told her, you know," Stiles mumbled into Scott's suit jacket, still not wanting to move from his friend's embrace. "Before she- I told her I loved her."

Scott gave a sad smile. "I'm sure she knew before then."

"And she said… she said she 'started.' Do you think that means…?" Stiles trailed off, unable to say the words allowed, to let himself hope.

"I saw the way she looked at you, Stiles," Scott said, a pang of sadness hitting him as he used past tense to refer to Lydia. "I know she did."

Stiles slowly pulled back giving the alpha a tight smile before he stepped away. "I have to…" he trailed off, looking forlornly at the coffin.

Scott understood his meaning, giving him a small nod. "I'll just be over there, okay?" he said, gesturing towards the trees lining the path leading out.

Stiles didn't answer, instead he slowly walked up to the grave, listening to Scott's retreating footsteps. He raised shaky hands and placed them on the coffin, the contact somehow calming him slightly. He placed a red rose on the top, wishing he had given her roses when she was alive. He took a deep breath as he stared at his muted reflection in the varnish. Where to begin?

"Hey, Lydia," he whispered, allowing himself to say her name for the first time since she died. It felt foreign on his lips, that fact distressing him further. "I don't really know what to say, if you're even listening. But… I miss you so much. I don't know how to keep going without you."

He could feel the tears rolling down his cheeks once more, knowing now that he had let them start it would be a long time until they finished.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I should have been, we all should have been. You deserved more; better," Stiles continued, pressing his lips together as he suppressed a sob. "I wish you were still here, Lyd. You should be getting ready for senior year now, acing every test like always, having colleges fight over you. Then you'd be off to college, finishing early, of course, then getting your PhD, then your Fields Medal, right? All before you were 30, no, 25," he grinned through his tears, remembering their conversation at the dance, one of the first they ever had.

"I think about you all the time," he said after a moment, turning somber again. "When I'm awake, when I'm asleep. I dream about you, you know. And- and I save you. Every night, I get to you faster and pull you away, or I step in front of you, or I just grab your arm and run away with you before the fight even starts. I save you, not when it counted, of course, but... God, I would give anything to have saved you that night. Why, Lydia? Why did you have to go and get yourself killed?" he sobbed, leaning down to touch his forehead to the cold surface, pretending it was hers, like the night she had died.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I should have stayed, I should have helped. Maybe then you'd still be here. It's my fault, I don't care what anyone says. I could have found a way for you to live, if only I had stayed," he cried, his eyes clenched tightly shut. "Why couldn't you stay?" he whispered, voice as broken as his heart.

After a few moments Stiles forced his breathing to slow, slowly pushing himself off of the coffin. He carefully wiped away his tears with his sleeve, restoring the glossy finish. He licked his chapped lips, stealing himself for his final goodbye.

"I love you Lydia Martin. And I'll never forget you."

When he joined Scott at the tree a few minutes later tears were still streaming down his face, his eyes and nose red as he silently cried. The pair walked to the cars in silence, taking comfort in each other's company.

Stiles only looked back once, noting the bright red and yellow standing out on the stark black of the coffin. _I'll have to bring another flower the next time I come to visit Mom_, he thought before turning back, giving Scott a grateful smile for the comforting arm he threw over Stiles' shoulder as they continued on.


	12. Him

**I really don't know why I've been so set on angsting this pairing lately, I swear it's not intentional! But this does end well, so at least there's that.**

**This is from a tumblr prompt: "Just leave me ALONE."**

**Set in s5, taking liberties with who the Doctors are and what they can do.**

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><p><em>Not again. Never again.<em>

His mental mantra did nothing though, the injection coursing through his veins was too much for him to fight against, no matter how hard he tried. He could feel the all too familiar darkness enveloping him again, a feeling he thought, hoped, he would never feel again.

**Hello, Stiles. Long time no see…**

He couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body as he heard that voice again, the one he thought he was free from, the one he only heard in his nightmares. Until now.

_No, you're not real! This is just some sort of hallucination!_

The voice chuckled darkly, causing the hairs to stand up all over Stiles' body as his head began to throb.

**Tell yourself what you like, it doesn't change anything. Did you really think you could get rid of me so easily? That a mere bite could stop _me_?**

More maniacal laughter rang through his head as Stiles threw up his hands, gripping his ears in an attempt to silence it. He fell to his knees on the floor, mind racing as he tried to force the voice from his mind, to tell himself it wasn't real, that it wasn't happening all over again.

That his nightmares weren't coming true.

"Stiles? Are you okay?"

His head shot up at the hesitant voice. _Lydia_. He had forgotten she was locked in the room with him. Suddenly the reality of their situation crashed down on him; the danger.

No, he couldn't do that to her, not again. Not like last time.

"Lydia, stay back! You can't- it's not safe for you to be around me!"

**Ooh, I remember her! The banshee… I believe we have some unfinished business.**

"No! Leave her alone!" he shouted, clutching his head once more, not realizing he had spoken aloud.

"Stiles?" Lydia questioned, taking a step towards him.

"No! Don't!" he cried, eyes wide and wild as he stood up only to slam himself back against the wall.

**You think you can stop me? You couldn't before, what makes you think you can now? You're _weak_, Stiles. You always have been. You can't save her.**

"I will stop you!"

Lydia stared at him with a worried expression, eyes searching his face for an explanation. She knew the Doctors had done something to him, put something in that syringe, but what she didn't know. All she knew was that she had to help him.

"Stiles, please, tell me what's wrong. Let me help you."

**Yes, tell her! Let her remember me. Let me see that lovely fear on her face again!**

"No! Just leave me ALONE." he yelled, unsure himself if he was directing his words to just _him _or her as well. "You're not real! You're gone! Not real, not real…"

She watched him fall in a crumpled mess on the floor, folding in on himself, sweat drenching his skin. Lydia furrowed her brows, a familiar determined look crossing her features before she strode forward, all hesitation gone.

He flinched as she knelt beside him, trying to move away to no avail. He let out a whimper as he found himself pulled into a strong embrace, stiffening as he realized how close she really was.

"No, Lydia, it's not safe-"

"Shut up Stiles."

He turned surprised eyes up to her. "Lydia?"

The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes even as she tightened her grip around him. "Don't be an idiot. What makes you think I'd ever leave you?"

"But- _He's _back, I can't-"

"It's not real, Stiles!" she insisted, leaning her head down so her forehead rested against his. "And even if it was, I wouldn't leave you, not even then."

He was speechless at this, too surprised to notice the throbbing in his head fading away.

"You're not _him_, Stiles. I never thought you were," she said quietly, sighing when she felt his arms wrap around her, returning the comforting embrace.

"…Thanks, Lyds."

"We'll get through this, just like we always do," she assured him.

Her fingers absentmindedly stroked through his hair as she held him while he calmed down and Stiles couldn't help but believe her, pushing away the thoughts of _him _and focusing on the sound of the off-key humming of the girl who could chase away his fears.


	13. Matter of Chemistry

**I decided to do a mini drabble prompt meme on tumblr and got a few requests for Stydia.**

**Here is the first: Lab Partners AU**

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><p>"Hey, so uh, what are we supposed to be doing?"<p>

His question was met with the rolling of pretty green eyes and an exasperated sigh. "Did you even read the lab assignment Stiles?"

"No?" he answered, giving her what he hoped was a winning grin. Given her second sigh in so many seconds, however, he had failed.

"How are you even passing chemistry right now?" Lydia asked, turning on her stool to face him, giving him an incredulous look.

"Because I have the smartest lab partner ever," Stiles said, grin widening.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Now, go clean out these beakers while I grab the chemicals."

"Aw, how come you get to do the fun stuff and I'm always on cleaning duty?"

She shot him a long suffering look. "Because the last time you were in charge of the chemicals, you burned off Danny's left eyebrow."

"Hey, that was not entirely my fault," he defended, ignoring her disbelieving look. "There's too many letters and numbers on the jars and they all look the same. It's like they want us to grab the wrong one! And besides, I can't be held responsible if Danny sits too close while we're performing delicate chemical experiments," he added with a righteous air.

"He was sitting across the room, Stiles," Lydia said flatly, shaking her head.

"Yeah, well, he deserved it anyway."

She sighed. Again. "And _why _did he deserve to walk around with one eyebrow for two weeks?"

"He knows what he did," Stiles said darkly, narrowing his eyes as he caught sight of the aforementioned boy across the room, who met his gaze with a scowl of his own.

"Right… Anyway, the beakers, Stiles."

"Yes ma'am!" he said, giving her a salute before he noticed her glare. "Uh, yes miss?" A frown. "Yes… Lydia?"

"Stiles…"

"Going!"

Lydia shook her head as she watched him jump from his stool, careening towards the sinks at an inadvisable speed with an armful of glass, making sure his back was to her before she allowed the grin to creep across her lips.


End file.
